The Sun Jumped Over the Moon
by bama02614
Summary: One shot Nate/Serena story, all about their doomed love.


Author's Note: Lack of NS on GG, plus the fabulous National's song "Fake Empire" have inspired this little one shot. I did a Serena point of view previously on their doomed love, so this time I decided to tackle Nate. This is pretty current I would say, everything that's happened, has happened. Enjoy the angsty goodness of NS.

**van der Woodsen & Archibald**

_The Sun Jumped Over the Moon_

He wonders when he lost her. He wonders if there was ever a time he could have reached out for her, and she would have been there. Flesh against flesh – something real, something they never quite had. He wished for it. Dreamed of it. Nearly willed it to life a million times, but she would run, or he'd back down, or they'd implode right there in front of each other. He's had many lovers by now. Some he cared for, some he used to pass the time. She was the only one he knew he loved. He thinks he might have loved the others – fleeting moments of rapture that stuck with him. But she was a solid feeling, something lasting that flowed through his blood and ached in his bones. He tried to carve her out of his heart, just as surely as she had carved herself in. She wouldn't go. She'd never go.

He stares at her through crowded rooms. Sometimes she catches him, and he smiles – this little half smile, that she always recognizes and returns. He hates that she knows him the way she does. He thinks his girlfriend should have those insights, but he's never given them to her. Serena knows him in a way that is both good and bad. It's good because when he's with her, he feels safe, comfortable – he's feels like someone actually sees him. She sees him. It's bad because he'll never have it with anyone else, and he feels that loss.

He's not sure when it happened, when he stopped looking to his parents for safety, and turned to her instead. She became his home… his everything. He loved her without meaning to. He looked for her yellow hair, and blue eyes, and soft brown boots in every room he went into. He still does. He goes from the feet up, searching for her special brand of footwear. Then he traverses the bodies, knowing if she's there, he'll recognize her. He's saves the best for last – her eyes. Her eyes, blue, but not just blue. Soft, but intense, loving, passionate, explosive. Every dream he's ever dared to dream have featured those eyes.

He wants to tell her he loves her. He's tried so many times before, but the words always get lodged in his throat. They don't seem to be enough. What is love? Something fleeting that people throw around to justify their actions. He's done it enough times to know this is true. She's something more though. She's everything and nothing wrapped into one confusing package. Yet, still… he needs to say it. He thinks if he does, maybe the silence will suffocate him afterwards, but he can survive anything as long as she doesn't tell him she doesn't love him.

Fear is the main reason he's never told her, and probably never will. He's terrified that once the words are out, things will never be the same. She'll pity him or avoid him – he'll lose more of her than he's already lost. He can't bear that, so he keeps his mouth shut and goes with her program. She wants him to be friends with her boyfriend. So he is. She wants him to smile at her and joke around with her, and forget everything that has passed between them. He does smile and joke, but he'll never forget, not even for her.

She hasn't forgotten either. He knows that. In moments of alcohol induced craziness she's told him as much. 'Do you remember when…' it always starts out, and he just nods. He remembers it all, every word, every look, every touch… he'll never forget an inch of her. She continues though, outlining some of the very best times they've ever had, but as the alcohol wears off, she turns to their worst moments, and her guilt sets in. He usually leaves when that haunted look comes into her eyes, because he can't bear her telling him they were a mistake again. Maybe they were, hell of course they were, but he doesn't want to hear it.

He used to dream that she'd come to him one day and tell him she finally realized they belonged together. He felt foolish when he has these grand cinematic dreams, but it was hard to stifle the yearning inside him. One time he almost confessed these dreams to her. They'd been drinking, and commiserating over all the things that had gone wrong in their love lives. She'd told him she had the worst luck, and he'd admitted he'd never been able to make it work and be truly happy. She's turned to him, this soft yielding look in her eyes, and he'd known she wanted him to kiss her. He almost had. He'd almost confessed it all to her, but something held him back. The fear that she'd wake up in the morning and rebuff him. The fear that they would try, and fail.

Maybe that was the biggest reason he kept letting her run from him. If he stayed and confessed all, and she actually reciprocated, where would they go from there? He didn't know. Neither were the best at commitment. He'd hurt every girl he'd ever been with, and she didn't have the best track record either. What if they wrecked each other, and proved everyone right. What if he had her, truly had her, and then lost her. He doesn't think he could do that. He'd go crazy. He'd never recover. She would strip him completely, he knows she would. She has that power.

Vanessa wants him to say I love you to her. She's said it a million times, and he can feel the expectation in her tone. He's tried. He's skirted around it as much as he could, but he knows the moment is here. He does a dumb thing and goes to Serena for advice. He shouldn't. He knows this when he gets into the elevator to get to her apartment, but something unknown is driving him to this self destructing point. She opens the door with a smile, and an impulsive hug that lingers a second too long to make it comfortable. She ignores the tension though, and pulls him in. Chuck is in the kitchen on his phone, and he nods at Nate before turning back to his conversation. Serena whispers that Blair and Chuck are in the honeymoon phase. Whatever that means. Nate doesn't think he's ever had one of those. But then of course he'd never been with the one. His one had always been with someone else.

Serena shuts the door to her room behind them, and pushes him down to sit beside her on the bed. Then she looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to speak. Nate has a crazy moment where he actually considers blurting out that he loves her and kissing her. But she's with Dan now, and he has Vanessa, and Vanessa is actually why he came. So he lets the insanity pass, and finally spills his guts about his problem. Serena stares at him for a long time, opens and closes her mouth in rapid succession. He's never seen her so speechless and it worries him.

Finally, she speaks.

She's mad, or at the very least irritated. She wants to know what she's supposed to tell him. If you love her tell her Nate. That's all she says, before getting up and walking over to her closet. He's confused, and a little annoyed that she's not helping him out the way he thought she would. He realizes now he came here for some sort of silent permission. He knows that once he tells Vanessa he loves her, he'll actually have to love her, and that means letting Serena go.

She asks him if he loves her. It's quiet, and sad, and Nate feels angrier than ever before. She shouldn't be asking him that. He doesn't have a prepared answer, and better yet he doesn't even know what she would want him to say. He's good with a script, but honesty is hard. He shrugs, and she scowls, and they stay locked in that battle stare for a while longer.

Do you love Dan? He asks her bluntly, and she stares at him stunned before saying she does… of course she does. The question has offended her, but Nate is beyond caring. He has no idea where they are in this little game they play. Does she want jealousy from him? Does she want friendship? Does she want him to erect a fucking statue in honor of Dan Humphrey? He doesn't know, and he's starting not to care. Vanessa never makes him jump through these hoops. She is easy, and smiles, and goes along with his program – which usually consists of laying back and letting life travel by. He likes to relax. He's tired of apologizing for that too.

She asks why he came to her. He wonders who he should have gone to? Dan? Not likely. Dan Humphrey isn't exactly good with the romantic advice, and Nate thinks he's a bit biased in Vanessa's favor. Blair? She'd just cringe at Vanessa's name and tell him he was trading down. He'd get irritated, they'd fight… it wasn't an option. Chuck wouldn't be much better. He'd make lewd jokes, and tell Nate to just lie. Nate didn't feel like lying though, he felt like meaning it. He just needed to do this one last thing. He realizes Serena knows this, and that's why she's upset.

I can't wait anymore. There. He's said it. The words crash hard around them, and she turns her head so their eyes are no longer meeting. He gets up from the bed and heads for her door. He's done here. He's finally done. She reaches for him at the last minute. He stops…waits… she says nothing. He tries to pull away but she holds on tight digging her nails into his arm, and holding him as tightly as she can. She comes toward him slowly, tentatively, like she might change her mind any second. He almost wishes she would, because he's sure whatever she does next will kill him.

He's right.

She leans into him, wrapping herself in his arms and pressing her fast against his neck. He can feel her breath against his skin, and he wishes they could just stay like this forever. This is perfection. This is love. No one will ever make him feel this much ever again. He's alive, and he's dying at the same time. He thinks she is too. There is pleasure in pain, he can see that now.

Don't. That's all she says, but it's more of a plea. He knows what she wants. She wants him to keep waiting, to keep loving her, and hurting everyone else. She wants him to smile and joke, and be friends with fucking Dan Humphrey until it kills him. He's tempted to say okay, to continue the dance they've always done so well. But he's tried. He hurts all the time now, and he knows Vanessa could make that go away. If he could just love her, if he could just walk out of that room, and let Serena go… if they could stop dancing… he could be free again. It's weird that she was his freedom once upon a time, and now she's his cage.

I love you. He finally whispers it into her ear as she clings to him. This is not a beginning. He knows that, and she does as well. This is a goodbye. He can say it now. He can feel it now. And for one tiny moment in time, she does as well. She looks up, and their eyes meet, and the dance has hit it's crescendo. I love you. She whispers it back like a prayer, and he sucks it inside, holding it tightly. She can't have it back now.

I know. I've always known. He doesn't say it out loud, but he realizes it's true. It was never about what they felt, it was about what they would do. The sad fact was they were both cowards, both too good, and too bad, to do anything about it. Serena needed the Dan Humphrey's of the world to validate her, and Nate needed the Vanessa Abram's of the world to set him free.

In that moment, it didn't matter. Dan didn't exist. Vanessa didn't exist. They only loved each other. For the first time in all their lives, they could say it, revel in it, breathe it in until it choked them. It would. There was a time limit on this joy. Sorrow would creep in soon. Her eyes would shutter, and he'd pull away. He'd leave and go across the bridge and finally tell the other girl, who didn't have the yellow hair and blue eyes, that he loved her. He would mean it. He would live with it. She would have to as well. But right then, in that room, surrounded by all the things they couldn't say, but had said… it was just them, Nate and Serena, best friends, soul mates… so they continued dancing, holding on, never letting go.


End file.
